10:38

When that thought first popped into my head, I was sitting in my classroom, patiently waiting for the power to return. We were operating on generators, so my laptop was on, but the phones and Internet connections were not, so I was looking for ways to amuse myself. No Internet meant none of my online students could do their work. I glanced at the clock. A familiar rumble in my stomach reminded me that the banana I ate while pumping gas into our 2012 Honda Pilot at 6:55 this morning had long since stopped fulfilling my need for nourishment, so I reached for the "breakfast of champions" that I kept in my bag: Brown sugar and cinnamon Pop-Tarts. As I opened the package, the radio crackled, and the voice of the maintenance man reported that the electricity had been restored. I rebooted my computer, restarted my required landline phone, and waited for the onrush of students that wouldn't happen. When I opened to write, the time spoke to me, and these thoughts tumbled out.

I wrote that question with a certain thought in mind, but then my late father’s voice popped into my head. “Choose your words carefully, son. Words have meaning. Mean what you say. Don’t leave room for misunderstanding.” My question leaves a hole big enough for the new Air Force One to fly through and cause tons of misunderstanding, don’t you agree?

“Where” are you, for example, emphasizes the need to know your location, but that wasn’t on my mind. Well, I suppose to some extent it was, but it wasn’t my driving point. I was more interested in something else. It wasn’t the “where” as much as the “what” that wasn’t expressed in the wording. Dad’s caution to be precise and intentional is not unneeded, apparently.

“Are” wasn’t on my radar, either. I didn’t intend to ask, “Where are you?” as if to suggest that you were missing from the place you should have been. You aren’t one of my wayward children. I’m not suggesting that you were late for an appointment. That’s a question I’ve used frequently with my teenager, but not in this setting. At least, I didn’t use it that way just now.

“You” was my point, but it wasn’t supposed to be overly emphasized. A gentle emphasis would have sufficed. The more I explain myself, the more I realize that the question I asked, with the title I offered, should have indicated why I asked. For example, if I had said, “Where are you at 10:38?” or “Where are you at 10:38 regularly?” or something like that, I wouldn’t have had to launch into this obvious narrative.

However, there is a greater point at play. How often do we state or ask in part, expecting the reader or hearer to fill in the rest? Unfulfilled expectations often lead to frustration, complaints, and grudges, but if we have not provided others with all the information they need to process what we expect of them, why do we, and how can we, hold them responsible for misunderstanding, misinterpreting, or failing to meet our expectations?

It is not without reason that the letter-writer says, “Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.” (James 1:19) When we jump to conclusions, we cause more problems than if we listen carefully, ask clarifying questions, and reflect on whether we have provided sufficient information for others to comprehend us.

Now, my original question was not this serious. When I sat before this screen and glanced at the time, it was 10:38 in the morning. My mind flashed through experiences that commonly occur around this time of day. On workdays, I’m in a classroom or office, and I’m usually grazing. I rarely eat breakfast or lunch; I eat a little something whenever I feel hungry. Ten-thirty antemeridian is often such a time.

On Saturdays, I am often relaxing in the morning before going to my part-time job, and on Sundays, church is still meeting at 10:38. Typically, the pastor is in the final seven minutes of his sermon. Whoop-tee-doo, right?

Ultimately, this was a squirrel about habits and daily rituals. Neither of those is the word I’m looking for, but there’s a two-way radio squawking in my right ear, and facility residents walking past my classroom and popping in to talk to my left ear, and I’m too distracted to think straight. Plus, I have three floor fans blowing 80-degree (F) air around my room, and the keyboard is sticky from the humidity. I have a budding migraine, and … .

Who cares. Hashtag First-World Problems.

Where are you every day at 10:38 a.m.?